Vultures
by graveparty
Summary: It's been one hell of a week.


"Now calling Group Two for flight 1257 to Las Vegas, McCarran airport. Passengers in gate B13, please make your way the boarding area." the woman on the speaker chirped gleefully.

Catherine Willows sighed and folded her issue of Wine _Country_. "About damn time." she muttered. After a two hour delay due to thunderstorms, she'd had her fill reading about week-long excursions in the hills of Côtes du Rhone.

Even so, anywhere was better than Minneapolis at the moment. The past three days she'd spent at the Women In Law Enforcement conference, invited as a guest speaker to share her experience as the lead CSI in a serial from a few years ago known as the Cold Caller. Catherine took point on the case, but Sara Sidle had been her go-to when it came to making sense of the riddles towards the end. That woman had a way with patterns.

Despite the merit of co-presenting, Sara was in the trenches of a fresh case, conference be damned, and decided to cancel at the last minute. Catherine secretly enjoyed the fact that the presenters stage would be all hers, but shuddered at the thought of having to man the LVPD CSI info table herself. Those collapsible display booths were a bitch to lug around and set up. Still, Gil Grissom didn't object when she declared "Well that's just _great_. Sara can't skip town this week? I'm taking Nick."

Her presentation went smooth, no technical issues and lots of easy questions from the audience at the end. Everything else about the conference had left her exhausted. Young women asking her about internships, seasoned professionals shoving business cards into her hand, and then trying her best to avoid the boozy pair of Feds who became way too touchy-feely with her in the hospitality suite. Who'd let those guys in, anyways?

Thank God she had Nick to talk to all week, although he was getting his fair share of attention from female conference attendees. To the extent that he decided on staying through the weekend to explore the greater Twin Cities area.

Catherine uncrossed her legs from the vinyl chair she occupied and slipped back into her flip flops, standing to gather her belongings before heading to the boarding line. All week she'd been in heels and her favorite suits which worked perfectly for boosting her confidence in the courtroom but weren't ideal for navigating the Marriott conference center for eight hours a day. Now she wore black capris and a soft green sweatshirt she borrowed from Lindsey. Or maybe it has originally been her own at some point.

She needed a drink. The flat lime seltzer water in her carry-on bag was confiscated at the security checkpoint a few hours ago. The flavor reminded her of a gin and tonic, minus the booze. Well, it was too late to stop at the airport café now. She'd have to wait until she was in the air for something cold.

Catherine made her way toward the back of the plane. It was a late flight and fairly empty, so she was able to find a row to herself and spread out. She pulled her phone from the side pocket of her bag and opened a text from Lindsey: "U leave yet? Weren't you supposed to land at 7?"

Catherine cursed and quickly texted back. "flight was delayed. i forgot you were going to pick me up from the airport!"

She leaned her head against the window, glad she only had her carry-on as she watched the loaders handle the other passengers' baggage carelessly. He phone buzzed with a reply from Lindsey. "I have plans with Steph and Marisa tonight :("

Linds had always been a social butterfly. Catherine typed "don't worry about it, i'll be ok. goodnight, see you tomorrow. love you."

She weighed her options and selected _Grissom, Gil_ from her favorited contacts. She hastily typed him an email.

 _Gil,_

 _Are you in the office/able to pick me up from the airport? My ride bailed. Delta flight 1257. About to take off._

 _-C  
_

She hit send and ignored the 49 unread emails in her inbox. If he didn't respond she'd just call a cab, but it was definitely going to be charged to the department. Taxis really made a killing shuffling tourists to and from McCarran.

Catherine slowly exhaled and turned her phone to airplane mode. She plugged in her headphones and scrolled through her music library, settling for a John Mayer album that she could try to sleep through.

 _How did they find me here?  
What do they want from me?  
All of these vultures hiding right outside my door  
_

Catherine made a mental note of all the things she needed to to when she got back home as the plane took off. Did she remember to make an appointment with AquaClean to close down her pool for the season?

 _Wheels up  
I got to leave this evening  
I can't seem to shake these vultures off of my trail  
Power is made by power being taken  
So I keep on running to protect my situation_

Once at cruising speed, Catherine was about to rest her heavy eyes when she was approached by the flight attendant.

"Anything to drink tonight, ma'am?" the older man offered.

"Do you have white wine?" she asked, removing an earbud.

"We sure do. Happy to accept credit or debit, please." He poured a miniature wine bottle into a short plastic cup as she reached for her small black clutch.

After a few failed attempts running the card reader, the attendant said "These units don't always like to cooperate at 10,000 feet. Lucky for you, we don't accept cash anymore." He smiled and set the cool cup on her tray. "Enjoy."

She smiled in gratitude, replacing her headphone and finishing her glass of wine in less than one song. To be fair, it was a longer track with a sultry solo. She returned her tray to an upright position and stowed her empty cup in the seat pocket. Then she turned up the music and surrendered to sleep.

Catherine's dreams were cut short by the dull thud of wheels on the ground. As the plane taxied towards the gate, she took her phone out of airplane mode and opened her work email.

 _I'll be parked at Arrivals door when you land.  
-Grissom  
_

Her flip-flops slapped waxed linoleum as she made her way towards the signs for Ground Transportation. She spied Grissom through the dark tint of his black Denali, eyes closed and leaned back against the headrest, a traffic cop about to knock on his window for loitering in the pick-up lane.

She was quicker than the cop and jiggled the locked handle, tapping on the passenger side window to get Grissom's attention. He woke easily and hopped out of the drivers seat, walking around the back of his SUV to open the hatchback.

Catherine held up her bag. "It's ok, I just have this one. I can throw it in the back seat." she explained with a smile. He returned to his position behind the wheel as she took her seat up front.

He looked tired, but not dressed for the office. Well-worn jeans and a light blue tshirt, a discreet, faded Grateful Dead logo screen-printed on the right arm.

Catherine noticed he'd gotten some sun recently, based on the distinct void his sunglasses had left. "Field work get the best of you today?" she asked, pointing to her own cheek.

Grissom looked at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. "No, I was just on call earlier. Spent the afternoon repairing my back yard fence." He shifted to Drive and looked over his shoulder, waiting for a break in shuttle bus traffic. "Apparently, townhouse associations don't take kindly to loose dogs roaming the neighborhood."

Catherine laughed softly as she tried to imagine Hank on the run, terrorizing Grissom's neighborhood. "You know, you're going to have an even more interesting burn pattern on your face if you decide to ditch the beard anytime soon."

He lifted his chin, a thought coming to mind. "I'll have to use that argument next time Sara wants to help me shave."

Catherine stifled a laugh. Everything was funny tonight, especially that mental image. Chalk it up to exhaustion and white wine on a near-empty stomach, but she was on the brink of slap-happy.

Immediately regretting sharing that home life anecdote, Grissom offered "You need to eat before I drop you off?" He drove with one arm, his right elbow propped comfortably on the arm rest.

"Yeah, a burger sounds amazing." she sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed the soft blue material and said "Let's swing through that old drive-in on Tropicana. They have a vintage car show most Friday nights." Catherine rolled down her window and propped her bare feet on the dash, flip-flops abandoned on the floor below. "Perfect night for a cruise down the strip." she explained.

He nodded his agreement and lifted a tan arm to click the sunroof to the fully open position. Next he turned up the radio to adjust for the noise increase.

The warm evening air swept past them and mixed with the music. Catherine surveyed the passing neon lights of her city and adjusted her seat to a more relaxed position. It felt good to be _home_.


End file.
